


For what we believe in

by Plume_Sombre



Series: SASO 2017 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Character Death, Final Haikyuu Quest, Fluff, Friendship, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plume_Sombre/pseuds/Plume_Sombre
Summary: SASO 2017 prompt fills.





	1. karasuno 1st years - Too hot, too stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mundane magic powers AU

Tsukishima honestly hates summer, because it means that Hinata is even more energetic than usual—how is that even possible?—and he has to listen both to his incessant chattering and the King's shouts about being too hot to get angry at anything. Hinata is literally a plant; give him some light and he will stay alive, active and running everywhere to spend all his energy before it gets too much for him to contain. Too bad it doesn't grant him a few extra centimeters.  
  
“Will you just stop moving, dumbass?!” Kageyama yells, the blue glow around him flickering, like it doesn't know if it should be here or not. That's a weird power he has, albeit fitting to his personality; he can summon a cold barrier around him to protect himself from the heat, or to maintain the temperature around him to a low level since he strongly dislikes being hot, but apparently summer is as much a source of discomfort for him as for Tsukishima; the sunlight seems to diminish the effect of the cold. Even the King can't defy nature and its prowess.  
  
“I can't, it's so sunny today!” Hinata replies, not at all disturbed by Kageyama's murderous aura.  
  
“It was sunny yesterday, it's sunny today, it will be sunny tomorrow, and for the rest of summer! Stop moving and give me my damn water bottle back!”  
  
Hinata doesn't listen of course, and keeps running around the gym. Just looking at him exhausts Tsukishima, who can't for the life of him understand why he's stuck with the idiots even during breaks. The others are also huddled in groups, typically in second years and third years, but they seem to be having a much easier time, judging by the laughter and lively discussions.  
  
Though he doesn't intend to (probably the heat getting to him), he sees through the walls Yamaguchi coming back with a few snacks in his hands. People say that he has a really convenient power, especially for looking for lost belongings or for spying on people, but honestly Tsukishima would trade his omniscient vision for any other power anytime—he's had enough of accidentally seeing things that scar him for life. Well, the perk of this is that he can't be pranked.  
  
Yamaguchi trots over, and hands him a chocolate bar.  
  
“I'm sorry, there wasn't any strawberry flavored biscuits left,” he says sheepishly.  
  
“Why are you apologizing? You didn't eat them.” Tsukishima deadpans, accepting the chocolate bar.  
  
Yamaguchi chuckles and calls Hinata and Kageyama over. The two idiots are still running in the gym, Kageyama desperately trying to catch Hinata (on a sunny day), and it's a wonder they haven't collapsed yet from thirst. Or from stupidity. Tsukishima pays them no mind and nibbles on his snack, but of course nothing goes the way he wants when he's surrounded by these people.  
  
Hinata gets a spur of energy and he suddenly pounces on Kageyama with a fake roar, which catches the setter by surprise and he doesn't have the time to dodge. They both topple on the floor, but then Hinata springs back up shrieking, accusing Kageyama of trying to kill him with a gust of cold air and _that_ sets Kageyama on another angry rampage as he jabs a finger at the middle blocker, calling him names (“dumbass!”) and eventually making them start a shouting contest.  
  
Tsukishima rubs his temples, realizing that Kageyama is losing control over his power that is spreading in the room and chilling the air, which should be a welcome change but the abrupt drop in temperature is never pleasant to experience, and he can see from the corner of the eye Daichi-san getting up to stop this nonsense with his powerful Stare That Paralyzes Everyone (this is actually his power). However, nobody expects Yamaguchi to sigh, a long and heavy sigh, that litters the floor with flowers and plants all around the heap that is Hinata and Kageyama, but even more stunning, a tiny tree appears and its branches slap them both in the face in a resounding crack that drowns out their cries.  
  
Tsukishima snickers.


	2. miya twins - More than you think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu can read minds but Osamu can't.

Osamu has always disliked the mischievous glint in Atsumu's eyes. He doesn't dislike his brother, but the aura he constantly surrounds himself with, which is like some sort of blanket used to rile people up even without intending to. Osamu hardly ever bothers to play along Atsumu's teasing, mostly because Atsumu doesn't need him to voice his thoughts.  
  
“Hey 'Samu, do you think we can buy another pot of ice cream without dad and mom noticing anything?”  
  
Osamu shrugs, knowing that his answer won't affect his brother's decision anyway, so Atsumu picks up the pot to place it in the cart. They're doing the groceries together, as usual, and when they pass in front of a row of packets of crisps, Atsumu instantly reaches for one in particular, shoots a grin at his brother, and keeps walking.  
  
Osamu wonders if it truly brings joy to Atsumu to pick up what Osamu wants, just because he knows what he's thinking.

* * *

Having a brother who can read your mind with the reverse being impossible is annoying when they want to throw a surprise party, or try to keep secrets from each other. Osamu is not a partier, this is more Atsumu's field (and even he doesn't like partying that much), so that leaves him with the issue of not spreading what he prefers keeping close to his heart and mind. He does trust Atsumu, really, and they've been attached to the hip since they were born, but sometimes he finds having privacy is scarce, especially since he doesn't talk much. Atsumu thinks it's totally justified for him to barge into his brother's mind to know what is going on in that head of his, and Osamu can't stop him from doing it. Even his most deadpan stare or his glare don't deter Atsumu, if anything it makes him even more impish, grin splitting his face and unfazed.  
  
“You know you can tell me anything, 'Samu! Your secrets are safe with me.”  
  
Osamu doesn't reply, simply looks his brother in the eye, and what goes through in his mind freezes long enough for Atsumu to grasp, and Atsumu's smile falters just a little, but Osamu notices it.  
  
“I know.”  
  
Osamu's lips curl upwards, because despite everything he thinks sucks about mind-reading, Atsumu is his brother.

* * *

Volleyball is a complete another story. Atsumu never reads Osamu's mind when they're playing games—the calm and focused gaze he has on his face shows how much he values his setter skills, and cheating by knowing where one of his spikers is going doesn't sit well with him. Reading minds isn't necessary, anyway, because Atsumu is the one who directs the flow of their attacks, supported by their captain, and Osamu obeys the silent directives, dashes forward and makes his palm meet the leather of the ball. All the hours spent practicing perfect tosses and perfect spikes aren't fruitless, as they move on the court like one.  
  
Atsumu is confident in his technique, as well as in his brother's, so he doesn't hesitate to pull stunts simply to show off. Osamu follows his lead, jumps where there is no blocker, slams through the walls and quietly scores point after point to crush their opponents' hopes. He's the raw strength of their attack, the one who executes what the thinker plans, and this is a role he's more than pleased to fall in. One look at Atsumu is often enough to know that the match is firing him up, or that he wants to do something either risky, either flashy—purely based on instincts and trust. Osamu keeps his thoughts to himself, Atsumu's are exposed on his face.  
  
Osamu doesn't possess any powers, but on the court he can read Atsumu's mind.


	3. kinkunikage - Together as three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic, fluff. The three pieces can be read as stand-alone or together.

**“you're a real good listener but you don't have much to say”**

When Kindaichi needed to rant, he would go to Kunimi. Trouble studying? Talk to Kunimi. A need to gossip? Talk to Kunimi. It was almost an obligation for him to favor Kunimi over Kageyama in middle school (before everything), because Kunimi answers with sarcastic comments or ends up helping Kindaichi with whatever problem he has. Kageyama was way too awkward and not much of a talker, he didn't provide him with the necessary comfort he wanted.

But years later, after they made up, after past disagreement was put on the account of common misunderstanding, Kindaichi notices how quiet but relaxing being around Kageyama is. His default expression still makes him look like he's going to murder someone, but his eyes are filled with wisdom gained over the years, maybe not reaching the level of a philosopher but he knows how to act around people better, now. He has outgrown his stuttering when he's complimenting someone (when he does), takes a conversation in stride and doesn't look for an escape five seconds in. Kindaichi never thought he would see the day Kageyama would become less of a bundle of nerves and quirks.

However, Kageyama still remains as tight-lipped as before, not expressing much through words though his face tells it all, and while Kunimi's commentary can often lift his mood, Kageyama's quiet presence clears his head. He tries not to think about the fact it's a bit ironic, since the one he's avoided for years has become his silent support. One time he complained about a coworker who didn't take his job seriously and kept making mistakes, destroying people's progress or halting it to fix the damage.

“I don't think you should be that eager to prove you know what you're doing when you just got recruited,” he groans, waving his chopsticks around to emphasize his point.

“Not everybody is a soft-hearted like you,” Kunimi says around a mouthful of noodles.

“He doesn't even make the effort to listen to us!”

“Then maybe you should be more direct and let him handle his own mess.”

Kageyama nods, not giving any indication of what he's approving of, but he looks thoughtful, probably imagining how the events unfolded. Kindaichi doesn't comment on his silence and goes on. He also wishes that his other coworkers would stop being so indulgent, because they're the senpai and they should point out what they're doing wrong. Kunimi snickers and says this isn't a close circle of people anymore, like volleyball was, which makes Kindaichi rolls his eyes because he knows that.

When Kunimi is gone from the table of the restaurant they're eating at to pay the bill (they take turns), Kageyama tilts his head, looking straight at Kindaichi.

“Kunimi is right, you guys need to be more direct. He won't understand if you don't show him.”

And in that single sentence Kindaichi feels years of pent-up regret, maybe sadness and frustration, poking at his heart, and he stiffly nods. Kageyama gives him a small smile, as if he understood what went through his friend's head.

* * *

**“I want you to miss me when I'm not around”**

This is a stupid thought, but not baseless, and this is probably what makes Kageyama anxious. They have matured, resolved many issues and now have years of love under their belts, and even if they keep reminding him they are happy and that they wouldn't have it any other way, Kageyama can't help the little voice in his head telling him to be careful. Telling him to not screw up, to remain composed, to listen to what people say (generally speaking).

He just spent so many years wondering if they would ever go back to the way they were in middle school that the fear of being hated again lingers in his mind.

So he's been extra nice since they moved in together, preparing breakfast when he can and giving words of encouragement when they need them (even though he's sure they aren't that effective). If they're looking at him funnily because of his antics, they don't force an answer out of him, and he's glad for that. Kindaichi smiles at him and gives him a one-arm hug almost daily, Kunimi gives him a nod that is full of gratitude and his eyes just light up long enough for Kageyama to notice. They live peacefully. They fight sometimes, of course, but nothing irreparable.

One day at lunch Kunimi brings up a topic that they haven't talked about ever since they moved in.

“My boss says that I'm probably going to get transferred soon in the South. Something about polishing my skills with a senpai.”

“Yeah? I guess that was bound to happen,” Kindaichi replies, thoughtful. “Do you know how long?”

“Not yet. Long enough for you guys to miss me, I hope.”

“We're not going to miss the crumbs you leave on the couch or your burnt omelets.”

Kunimi rolls his eyes and Kindaichi grins, while Kageyama lets out a small chuckle. They rarely leave Kunimi on his own in the kitchen for fear he's going to burn the whole place down with his carelessness, though he seems to try developing a keener sense of self-preservation.

“The house won't really feel the same without all three of us in it,” Kageyama adds, and earns a few puzzled looks. He fidgets in his seat. “Isn't it true? I mean, we've been living here together for a couple of years, so...”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Kunimi says. “If Kindaichi isn't here every morning to monopolize the bathroom, I would get nervous.”

“Hey!”

“And if we don't have entire packs of milk stored in our kitchen I would think something's wrong.”

Kageyama stays quiet for a moment, processing what Kunimi just said while Kindaichi is making indignant noises about him not monopolizing the bathroom. Habits are said to be hard to break.

“Do you really mean it?” he finally asks.

“Mean what?”

“That something would be wrong?”

Kunimi stares at him, then reaches across the table to flick him on the forehead. Kageyama yelps, his hands flying to the injured area, and he's outright pouting.

“What was that for?!”

“Of course I mean it, idiot,” Kunimi deadpans. “You live here. You're stuck with us.”

When the silence stretches, Kunimi nudges at Kindaichi to say something too, and Kindaichi looks like he doesn't know where to begin.

“Yeah, we love you, you know? That wouldn't be normal for us not to miss you when you're not here.”

Kageyama's heart is racing, but in a good way, making him feel giddy and relieved, a bit too excited for simple words.

This isn't in his habits, but he gets up and asks all the same.

“Can I hug you both?”

They are probably too stunned to properly answer, but Kageyama wraps his arms around them and softly laughs. A second later he's patted on the back, accompanied by fond whispers of 'stupid' and 'dumbass'.

* * *

**“late night watching television / but how'd we get in this position?”**

Kunimi honestly doesn't know if this is best or the worst thing in the world. He has gone home after work, tired and hungry, but he didn't have the energy to cook something and both his boyfriends would come home late. So he just crashed on the couch, switched on the TV and watched whatever was on. He isn't one to get really invested in the shows that get shoved in his face, but he had nothing else to do. Which of course led him to doze off, and he eventually fell asleep.

When he wakes up, it's past 9pm, the TV still broadcasting a show (a different one), there are two bowls of crisps and a carton of apple juice on the coffee table, and two warm bodies sticking to either side of him. He blinks.

“How long have you been here?”

Kindaichi reaches for one of the bowl and says, “One hour I think, we were getting comfortable and watching TV.”

“I can see that,” Kunimi mutters.

“Did you have dinner?” Kageyama asks.

Kunimi doesn't smell anything coming from the kitchen, so Kindaichi and Kageyama probably didn't eat either, and it's mostly likely because they didn't want to wake him.

“No, I was waiting for you guys,” he sighs.

“Huh.”

Kageyama is leaning against him, eyes riveted on the show (people had to go through a course, jumping and climbing on platforms and yeah, when they fall in the water it's pretty amusing), and he seems so at ease slumped like that that Kunimi doesn't dare moving. Kindaichi is just sitting next to him but their legs are brushing.

This is actually nice, really.

“I don't want to cook,” Kageyama announces lazily.

“Me neither,” Kindaichi supplies. “And I'm not that hungry.”

“If you've been stuffing yourself with crisps and other snacks then of course you wouldn't be hungry,” Kunimi points out.

Kindaichi almost looks guilty, but then he shrugs and drinks from his glass. Kageyama is munching on a cookie (Kindaichi's batch from yesterday?), and makes a noise of agreement. He usually doesn't eat junk food on a whim, since he still plays volleyball as intensely as before—which isn't surprising, and Kunimi is secretly glad that Kageyama has kept his burning passion for this sport. In any case, they are all pretty much useless right now, squeezed on the couch and judging people on the screen.

“Pizza?” Kunimi suggests, and he gets a concert of approvals.


	4. iwaoi - Swing it right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire Emblem's strategist class.

Hajime pinches the bridge of his nose, trying very hard not to release all the pent-up frustration he's accumulated through the day. The enemy is retreating, clearly outnumbered and lacking a force that will rival the opponent, and Hajime is glad that there will be no more fighting.  
  
Because he's pretty sure someone was going to get killed.  
  
“Tooru, if you don't know how to use a sword, then don't use a sword!” he snaps at last, witness to the poor attempt of a swing by the army's strategist. The blade barely grazed the bandit's arm, and fortunately for Tooru, Issei is nearby and the situation is handled without further worrying.  
  
Hajime marches towards the fool that is supposed to keep the lives of the soldiers safe, including his own, and doesn't hesitate to jab him in the side. Tooru cries out and backs away in a swift move that will certainly be useful to dodge attacks, and he stares at Hajime, both confused and guilty.  
  
“Do you have to be so violent, Hajime?” Tooru whines. “And what was that for?”  
  
“For being an idiot, dumbass,” Hajime growls. “What the hell were you thinking? You're not a swordsman! Stick to your tomes if you don't want to get killed!”  
  
“You wound me, Hajime!”  
  
“Your job's not to be in the frontlines, but to strategize and to guide us!”  
  
Tooru is pouting now, looking at his iron sword as if it would make Hajime less angry. Ever since he joined Prince Yuutarou's army to defeat an evil dragon that will destroy the world, he has shown remarkable skills with magic and intelligence, and the other soldiers seemed rather pleased to have him as the strategist. But wielding another weapon other than tomes is more than necessary to defend himself at close range, when he doesn't have the time to cast a spell!  
  
Hajime truly isn't happy with the turn of events.  
  
“I know you want to be as useful as possible, but right now isn't a time to test new ways of attack. We don't have many mages in the army, and Akira can't do both the healing and the attacking.”  
  
Tooru knows that, he always assigns Akira to Prince Yuutarou's squad to heal them as soon as they get injured, on top of giving some support with a spell from afar. He sighs, crosses his arms over his chest and sends an irritated look at Hajime.  
  
“So I stay in the back, that's it?” he scoffs.  
  
Hajime rolls his eyes. “I said we don't have enough mages, so that means we need you. Stay with me, I'll cover the 'swing a sword' area while you cover _me_. Pair ups always work better, isn't that what you said?”  
  
And Hajime flashes him a grin, maybe a bit too smug for Tooru's liking, but he's right and knowing that Hajime will rely on him gives him a pleasant but funny feeling.


	5. kunikage - Hang up on the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Level Up" by Vienna Teng

Kageyama shouldn't have accepted that stupid offer, especially when his cousin and he aren't even that close. He should have asked Hinata to go in his stead, since he has some experience with children playing volleyball (he recounted to him the days he spent under Ukai-san's coaching).  
  
Children are a pain to deal with because they're always running away from him, but someone who dislikes him is even more troublesome to take care of, and Kageyama doesn't particularly want to burst a blood vessel while trying to show something other than a constipated face.  
  
“Kageyama,” Kunimi greets, expression as blank as always.  
  
“Kunimi,” Kageyama says back, shoulders stiff and not completely looking at Kunimi.  
  
This is a small gym full of children willing to play volleyball for fun, with a few adults to guide them and Kageyama happened to help his cousin out because, quote, 'you're a genius player and the kids will listen to you'. He did tell him this was bullshit, but it fell on deaf ears.  
  
“I'm here but I have no intent on actually playing,” Kunimi tells him as he shrugs, voice so neutral that Kageyama fears he has already screwed up by just being in the same room as him.  
  
“You're not?” the words quickly leave his mouth.  
  
“Do you really think I'm going to spend my energy on children who won't listen to me?”  
  
But you're a good player, Kageyama wants to say, but his tongue twists and he has to bite his lower lip to not gurgle ridiculous noises. His gaze shifts to the people surrounding them, unaware of the tension hanging between them, and he doesn't know if he's glad or irritated that this doesn't catch their attention.  
  
His cousin calls all the children and explains that Kageyama will show them how a set is done and how fast a spiker can be, and of course, instead of doing the example himself, he asks Kunimi to do it (“You're a wing spiker, right? Yamada-san's nephew?”).  
  
It has been two years since he was last on Kunimi's team, and the differences they had in the past can't have magically disappeared, yet the look of mild disgust and exasperation doesn't come, so Kageyama is left confused, watching Kunimi walking to the center of this side of the court, waiting for a signal. Didn't he say he wasn't going to play? Kunimi isn't the sort of boy who does things against his will.  
  
But here he is, looking at Kageyama with his bored expression, maybe thinking he should half-ass the spike because they're just children. Whatever. Kageyama just wants to be done with it, and igniting a fight with someone he hasn't had a real conversation with for three years isn't in his priorities.  
  
He's ready to start over, but Kunimi, or Kindaichi for that matter, probably aren't.  
  
He sets the toss, trying to remember how Kunimi liked them (has he ever known?), and settles for a simple toss for a quick. Kunimi runs, his shoes squeaking against the floor, and when he slams the ball on the other side of the court, even though it was expected and completely ordinary, Kageyama feels something tugging at his heart. Something both pleasant and choking.  
  
“That's how a quick is done,” Kunimi says, surprising Kageyama.  
  
“Yes, with a lot of practice, any setter and spiker can do a quick!” Kageyama's cousin adds. “Do you want to try?”  
  
The children cheer, some of them less excited than others, but at least the activities will resume and Kunimi will sit it out, like he said he would.  
  
“Nice spike,” he mumbles, out of habit or because he wants to try saying it to one of the two people he's let down.  
  
Kunimi stares at him silently, and Kageyama looks away.  
  
“I'll go help my cousin I guess—”  
  
“You know, you don't have to try so hard,” Kunimi interrupts.  
  
At this Kageyama meets Kunimi's eyes, not understanding and still unable to decipher the emotions flickering on his interlocutor's face.  
  
“You don't have to change to please us,” he goes on. “Just listen to what people say. That will do wonders.”  
  
This isn't an answer to anything, sounds more like another reproach they kept telling him, but somehow the edges of the words are softer, maybe hesitant, though it's unlikely given that Kunimi never hesitates on anything.  
  
Kageyama swallows, nods, and is ready to bolt. However, Kunimi sticks out his hand, still not smiling, but his eyes are less cold than before so Kageyama will accept that.  
  
“Consider this an apology of sorts. I'm not sorry about what happened, but I do wish things went better. So let's put the past behind. That's the first step, I suppose.”  
  
It is. Putting the past behind, not forgetting it but acknowledging it happened and learning from it. Kageyama knows it all too well.  
  
He takes Kunimi's hand, squeezes a bit too hard, like it would make the act more real. Kunimi snickers at this and that's the closest to enjoyment Kageyama has made him feel in forever. Hopefully the first to many others.


	6. aohina - Hold precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World travelling

Aone has never been fond of moving, he much prefers staying in one place and get acquainted with its surroundings until he knows them like the back of his hand. He's literally down-to-earth, physically and mentally. Unlike him, Hinata can't stay still for more than one second, always tugging him in every direction with a big smile on his lips and Aone can't say no to this bundle of raw positive energy. Futakuchi told him he is way too soft when it comes to his boyfriend, and Aone can't deny it.  
(Futakuchi then rolls his eyes at how mushy this is.)  
  
Hinata wanted to travel, once he was done with the volleyball season. The national team still practices hard during off-season, so Aone suspects that the coach and Kageyama told Hinata to stop pushing himself if he doesn't want to end up with a permanent injury. Maybe this played a role in his decision to agree to a trip they haven't really planned, but if it's Hinata, it's alright.  
  
They start small; they travel within Japan, go to Osaka to eat delicious okonomiyaki, visit the old town of Kyoto, decide to feed the deers in Nara, see the many ice sculptures in Sapporo, relax in Beppu's hot springs, and they even head to the beach in Okinawa. Hinata is excited wherever they go, making noises and pointing at everything and taking photos, of what he sees and of them in front of different landmarks. The storage in their phones gets full quickly and they have to make several folders in the computer they brought. Aone feels free, basking in the sheer happiness his boyfriend is radiating with, and his heart is light, making the most of these moments that will become precious memories. Hinata is pulling faces at the camera and Aone grins at the photos. They record themselves doing activities and laugh at how bad they are at it (their snowman crumbled within seconds).  
  
They go abroad too, despite Hinata not knowing a lick of English and Aone not expressing much through scattered English. They fumble with the maps and the panels that tell them where to go, eat whatever sounds or looks familiar before testing the more original dishes (snails? chocolate pasta? pistachio and rose ice cream?), and they get to admire all the beautiful landscapes and the different urban settings that blow their minds. The world is so much bigger than what they are used to, they learn ways of living that surprise them or make them ponder on their own. It's almost a self-discovery.  
  
Aone doesn't like moving much, but seeing Hinata so bright is worth everything. They hold hands while walking in the streets, stop at night under a sky full of stars to share a kiss and make a wish. Hinata thanks him for following him in the unknown, and Aone smiles and says he will follow him anywhere. It's cheesy and they both know it so they laugh, but it's nonetheless true.


	7. kageyama - Love Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All the King's horses" by Karmina, mild selfcest

The red mantle looks too big on his shoulders, yet this boy manages to inspire respect and fear. He’s standing perfectly straight, chin tilted upwards as a sign of confidence, and his legs lead him to the other boy on the floor, who in contrast can’t support his own weight and is completely swallowed by the same garment.  
  
“They don’t understand,” the shadow tells him in a low voice, so low that the words come off as foreign. “You don’t need them.”  
  
That’s not true, Tobio desperately wants to cry out. The fur of the mantle is choking him and the crown on his head is so heavy he fears it’s going to crush his entire being with its mere existence. He still hears the loud thud of a volleyball hitting the floor, way too loud in a room full of people screaming and yelling and running. The ball hasn’t landed on the right side of the court.  
  
The shadow is crouching beside him, his presence hardly noticeable—Tobio doesn’t pay enough attention to it, anyway. His touch is cold, but careful, as he strokes black strands of hair.  
  
“They don’t need you either,” he whispers. “They need someone who you are not. They’ve been trying to mold you into a setter to their liking, but that doesn’t work that way. If they can’t accept you, then you don’t need them.”  
  
Tobio finally looks up, ripping his eyes away from the sight of his teammates walking away, and stares into sharp blue eyes so different from his own. The focus and the determination in them is reminiscent of how he used to be a few months ago, when he still believed they would make it to the Nationals together as a team, but the blue gazing down on him is piercing. He shrinks on himself.  
  
“You’re allowed to hate them. It’s their fault.”  
  
“I can’t hate them,” Tobio croaks out, and the weakness in his voice makes him sick.  
  
“Then love yourself.”  
  
The shadow takes the crown in his hands, and puts it on the floor. Tobio watches as these ghostly hands untie the knot of his mantle, and peel it off him to let it fall at their feet. Tobio feels suddenly naked without the stifling sensation of this piece of clothing that wrapped him up with a layer of intimidation. But he realizes there is nothing to be scared of; he could have been hurt numerous times in his pathetic state, but he's unscathed and the shadow is slow and gentle in his gestures, as if he's afraid of breaking Tobio with a single touch.  
  
Tobio reaches up, his fingers brushing this more than familiar face, and it sends en electric shiver through him. This simple motion seems to break whatever magic veil surrounding them, and the shadow presses their foreheads together, a mysterious but content smile on his lips.  
  
“You're good. They tried to do something but they failed, and it's not your fault. You're good now, you're home here.”  
  
Tobio closes his eyes and lets himself lull into a sense of tranquility and validation. He isn't the problem, they just didn't try hard enough.  
  
The shadow pulls him into a tight embrace, oddly warm despite the cold body, and keeps whispering reassuring words. Tobio wants to believe them, even if loneliness is lurking behind them.


	8. kinkage - 'Gone Forever'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gone Forever" by Three Days Grace

There was screaming at first, then more screaming later, and finally the slam of an angry door. Kindaichi let everything unfold before his eyes and didn't even flinch when the photo frame got broken in the process, after much shoving and turning around, because who is he to still care about it?  
  
The living room is empty. His breath is pushing against the walls and he can't stop the ringing in his ears, because all he's thinking about is the words, a string of arrows made to hurt him in every single possible way. He shouldn't have been so surprised when it happened. The past days' events suddenly come rushing back to him, and somehow he can't find relief in the fact it's over.  
  
It's plain wrong.  
  
He lets himself slump against the door, burying his face in his hands and breathing, just breathing to let the words sink in (disappear) and the tension vanish. He has never imagined it could come to this.  
  
No, no, he knew it  _would_  come to this, but not so harshly. He didn't ask to have his heart ripped out and crushed by a single set of hands. He thought he would be glad to be left alone, to finally be able to breathe in nontoxic air again, but the words keep swirling in his head, pounding, haunting, relentlessly.  
  
_'I'll be better off without you. I shouldn't have thought it would work.'_  
  
Shouldn't. Kindaichi hates that word. Should, shouldn't. They should have, they shouldn't have. Nothing matters anymore, because it's the end of the road. Kageyama's hateful eyes are still glaring at him, and he thinks that maybe his own dark look was enough to leave a similar feeling.  
  
Gods, this is so, so fucked up.  
  
When he looks up, he sees the scattered pieces of the photo frame laying on the floor, cold and accusing. Kageyama had looked so happy on that day, a few years ago, and Kindaichi had wanted to keep that smile close to him forever. Integrated in his mind, flowing in their home, the bliss they should have kept living in is now just a memory.  
  
He feels like it's the end of the world, but maybe in a few days he'll be glad that it happened. Nobody can think straight in the heat of the action. The lingering hope and despair might as well transform into fierceness. Kindaichi won't let all this affect him so much that it leaves him broken on the ground.  
  
For now, he casts aside the pain and steadies himself on two strong legs to carry him onwards.


	9. (kin)kunikage - Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The End of the Movie" & "Long Distance Lullaby" by Stornoway

Akira stares at the screen of his phone, both surprised and completely at a loss. He hasn't seen that name flash before his eyes in a long time, and he doesn't know if he should feel happy, disgruntled or worried. He swallows, and takes the call.  
  
"... Hello?"  
  
"Akira," the voice says, the syllables of the name stretching out as if they didn't know when to end. "'m sorry to call you so late..."  
  
Akira thinks that there should be an apology for something else other than calling at 1 a.m., but the words stay lodged in his throat despite the thoughts in his brain running at one hundred kilometers per hour. He tries to stay composed, to let his breath remain steady, and quietly replies.  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"Everything's wrong," Tobio tells him in a heavy sigh, and suddenly Akira imagines him pinching the bridge of his nose, shoulders drooped and eyes wary of what's to come. "Still have stuff to tell you. And to Yuutarou. It's just not easy."  
  
Akira's stomach is churning. He narrows his eyes.  
  
"Are you drunk?"  
  
The last time Tobio got drunk was at his twentieth birthday, when the whole crew from Karasuno explicitly stated that this party wasn't going to end before they got at least a full folder of embarrassing photos of Tobio. They got first-hand a taste of Tobio's mushiness and clinging, which was both endearing and slightly weird. Akira didn't particularly like seeing him in this state.  
(And he still doesn't.)  
  
"I think, I dunno," Kageyama says. At least he knows there's alcohol in his system. "Is Yuutarou with you?"  
  
"Why would he be with me?"  
  
The words slip out harsher than he intended, and maybe he isn't totally over what happened, even though it has been a year. People can't forget so easily.  
  
"Because you guys were always much better at the whole thing than me." The confession pierces Akira straight in the heart.  
  
"We already had that discussions," he whispers.  
  
A year ago, the tension and the constant arguments were too much. Kunimi isn't sure if this was a mutual agreement to stop what they had, or if one of them had the courage to step up and the others just followed. Yuutarou cried angry tears, Tobio kept hissing furious words, and Akira listened, snapping remarks he had decided not to tell up until that moment.  
  
"I know, but maybe we were wrong? Everything's wrong."  
  
"Then tell me what was wrong."  
  
"I dunno. I wasn't always the best at following advice. And."  
  
There's rustling, the noise of someone kicking their shoes off, and then crashing somewhere. Akira wonders if Tobio just got home and was trying to find his words through the haze of alcohol and memories. He shouldn't even be having a conversation with a drunk Tobio. Where is Hinata?  
  
"Should've listened more, and speaking up more," Tobio rambles. Strangely enough his voice doesn't waver, and Akira, in a surge of affection long forgotten, suspects he has practiced saying this specific sentence.  
  
He wants to cry.  
  
"Why are you telling me this now?" he chokes out.  
  
"I miss you. I miss Yuutarou too. Gods, I don't know why I'm saying that."  
  
The heaviness in Akira's body is lifting, just a little, but that's enough to make him laugh, maybe a bit humorlessly but it's a start to everything and it's incredibly satisfying.  
  
"You're an idiot," he says.  
  
"Yeah, you told me that a lot."  
  
"Because it's true. Now go to sleep. You're drunk."  
  
He hears a hum, oddly content, and the line goes dead. Akira honestly didn't expect Tobio to obey that quickly. For a while, his phone is still pressed against his ear, as he tries to process what just occurred.  
  
So, so stupid.  
  
His fingers hover over his contact list, stopping at the 'ki' section. Even if this was a call done without his full attention, Tobio still overcame the fear they were all probably drowning in.  
  
Akira opens a new message.  
  
_'Hey, it's been a while. Tobio was drunk, and he called me. Can we meet at his apartment tomorrow?'_


	10. kinkage - More than strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I mean that strength isn't always enough to protect us. Yes, it helps force a foe to submit. But strength can also blind one to others' feelings. That is exactly how I once lost a good friend."  
> — Ephraim, maxed out on Fire Emblem: Heroes

“Stop that.”  
  
“Stop what?”  
  
“Pushing yourself like that. That won't do you any good.”  
  
Yuutarou is glaring at the back of Tobio's head, but Tobio is too busy notching an arrow and firing it. It hits the center of the target, and soon after two more arrows follow. Tobio doesn't say a word.  
  
“The battle with the Emblan army yesterday was tough, a lot of heroes were hurt,” Yuutarou goes on, a bit firmer. “Your leg is injured. Put that damn bow down and go rest.”  
  
“How do you expect me to become strong if I don't practice?” Tobio snaps, finally turning around to face Yuutarou, the glint in his eyes almost feral.  
  
Yesterday was too much of a close call to everyone's liking; the summoner expressed extreme worrying during the battle and gave frantic orders, while all the heroes kept fighting till they saw no more enemies coming their way. Yuutarou and Tobio were paired up, with Yuutarou slashing at the soldiers and Tobio covering him. This is usually a combination that works well, as they are both experienced warriors with a natural synergy, but the enemy overwhelmed them with its sheer number.  
  
Yuutarou got a sprained wrist and a few cuts, and Tobio got his leg injured by an arrow. The other heroes didn't fare better, but in the end, they won and they could be proud of that. However Yuutarou doesn't feel this is something they should rejoice in, especially after almost losing some of their comrades.  
  
“Becoming strong doesn't necessarily mean you have to practice until you collapse,” he hisses. “It's knowing your limits, and then finding a way to deal with it during battle.”  
  
“That's stupid,” Tobio replies. “I'd die if I just make do with my current power. I can't waste time doing nothing.”  
  
Yesterday, and the day before, and the previous battles too, ever since they've been summoned here, Tobio had Yuutarou's back. They crossed paths a few times in their original worlds but never truly had any interaction, though they knew about each other's abilities—being part of their respective royal guard helped, especially since their two kingdoms have a friendly rivalry going on.  
  
And now, they are fighting side by side, discovering the strategies that work best with them and the moves they shouldn't play with, creating a sort of unspoken trust acknowledged by everyone, the two of them aware of it. So why can't Tobio listen to what Yuutarou has to say?  
  
“You're just not looking at the right side of the picture. You can only do that much with your bow and your arrows—”  
  
“Are you calling me weak, now?” Tobio is baring his teeth, all pretense of calm posture gone.  
  
“No!”  
  
Yuutarou wants to break something, wants to shake Tobio and make him understand.  
  
“You're thinking about yourself! But when you're fighting, you have people to rely on! Why do you think we keep getting paired up? If you're in a pinch, I'm here to get you out of it.”  
  
Tobio's face is scrunched up, gripping his bow until his knuckles turn white. He's holding Yuutarou's gaze, as if he was trying to prove that what he's saying is wrong, though Yuutarou can see the waver in these blue eyes too expressive for their own good. It appeases him just a little, enough to remain composed and to remember that he has in front of him someone who wasn't used to be part of a group.  
  
“I'm just saying that you're not alone, alright? You have to think about the ones who support you. If you're just thinking about strength, you'll lose sight of everything else. Don't become a shadow of yourself.” He swallows, and rubs his face. “Someone I knew was reaching for a power he couldn't obtain.”  
  
(Akira smiled when Yuutarou's sword ran through him. Yuutarou's lips couldn't mirror it.)  
  
Tobio is quiet, looking at the bow in his hands. Yuutarou knows that look—he's thinking about something but doesn't know how to word it, afraid of getting his message misunderstood or conveying the wrong feeling.  
  
“I... People tell me that they fight to protect their loved ones,” he whispers. “For a long time, I didn't know what that meant. I've only been in the royal guard for a few years, but before that time I just relied on myself. I don't... I don't want to keep making mistakes.”  
  
There was an history there that Yuutarou didn't know of, and that would explain why Tobio isn't that excited whenever a hero from his kingdom is summoned; maybe there has been an incident and their relationship was damaged, maybe he felt left out. Yuutarou isn't going to push for an answer, because this is already much more than what Tobio is usually willing to divulge. On top of that, he feels they share the same sentiment on the topic of not repeating the past.  
  
“So... I guessed that becoming stronger would help me taking care of my enemies on my own. And to—to avoid getting you injured.”  
  
The admission startles Yuutarou and something burns in his stomach, warming him all the way to his heart, and he finds himself smiling at the unexpected but earnest words.  
  
“I'm not going down that easily,” he says, a bit too smugly perhaps, but Tobio's lips slightly tug upwards and his eyes light up and it's such a beautiful sight to see he wants to commit it to memory—and remember it whenever he wonders why he's fighting so hard.  
  
“We're a team,” he asserts once more. “So that means we're in this together.”  
  
Tobio nods, his shoulders losing their stiffness, and Yuutarou can finally breathe again.


	11. miya twins - Take my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Donor Song", VY1V4

Osamu is rummaging through his clothes to find something suitable to wear at his aunt's birthday party. He doesn't particularly like big events like these, especially when it's a family gathering because people are bound to ask him questions about his life, and he doesn't feel like answering them. He still hasn't figured out why people who see him twice a year are interested in his grades, or his future, or his nonexistent girlfriend. He doesn't pry in their lives, so why do they in his? Incomprehensible.  
  
He should just pick a suit and be done with it. His father doesn't really care as long as he doesn't show up in gym clothes, but his mother wants them to be impeccable, which is, in Osamu's opinion, useless and too much of a hassle. His aunt isn't that close to his parents.  
  
He lays the clothes on his bed, a few dress shirts of different colors and a pair of black pants. He always goes to events in black pants, because it's easier to match in an outfit. Or so he has been told. He has the choice between a white shirt, a sky blue one and a dark red one. He also has different ties. People are used to seeing him in dark colors.  
  
Absentmindedly he turns his head towards the door he has left open, listening carefully. His father is talking on the phone, and his mother is humming a song. There is no emergency, everyone is getting ready for tonight.  
  
There is nobody to pester him about matching colors and pranks on innocent cousins.  
  
His gaze shifts back to the dress shirts on his bed, and he belatedly realizes that the sky blue shirt isn't his. He doesn't own a sky blue shirt, but a navy one.  
  
It's Atsumu's.  
  
And then Osamu's lips tug upwards, his eyes slightly widen, and his throat is opening to let out an awful laugh, scratching and prickling and grating. He falls on his knees at the foot of the bed and crumples the shirt in his hands, fingers digging into the fabric just as needles are piercing his hollow (healthy) heart. He buries his head into it and breathes in, taking the scent with him and the sensation it comes with, the familiar comfort he had always taken refuge in, but everything is so faint now, hardly present and Osamu doesn't want to admit he's trying to summon memories to remember what it felt like.  
  
It's been months, but to this day, even though he has asked nobody, he still doesn't have the answer to the question burning his tongue and his (healthy) heart.  
  
“What am I supposed to do now?”  
  
People are telling him pretty lies, like he can't be forgotten because he lives in his (healthy) heart. Fucking poetry doesn't change the fact he's the only Miya at school now.  
  
That's what family does, they say. That was the only solution, they say. Osamu never agreed to it.  
  
Every night he thinks about a universe where he wasn't the sick one, and every night he knows that if he could go back in time, or make a deal with the devil to switch places, he would in a heartbeat.  
  
Even though he hates the pitiful looks he gets every day and people's empty words, he decides that right now, he will make them his reality because he's had enough of drowning in his own dreams.  
  
So he takes the shirt, and wears it.


	12. kagehina - Bright sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I'm going to burn, it might as well be bright."  
> — Rick Riordan, "The Son of Neptune"
> 
> FHQ.

Betrayal is a bitter taste. Tobio was too young when his parents abandoned him at the castle's doorstep, so he didn't feel betrayed by their act. It stung when King Tooru sent him away for safeguarding his own image and to 'take care' of some things in the kingdom, but mostly he felt relieved because Tooru hasn't been in his normal state for a long time. He found people to fight alongside with to make the kingdom prosperous and peaceful again.  
  
Shouyou is his friend. More than his friend, he is his partner; they traveled together for a long time before meeting the other members of their party, and during those weeks they were alone against the world. Shouyou, Tobio later learns, has been as lonely as he, but both will never admit it. They shared their laughs and their pains, they had each other's back.  
  
But his first mission has always been restoring the kingdom and Tooru's mind. And to do so, he's ready to sacrifice everything; he can't let anything happen to the people he loves. The dark essence that is possessing the King needs a new vessel, and Tobio was the only one available to bear this curse to free Tooru. From the very beginning it has chosen him.  
  
So he embraces the energy into him, hears Tooru's body slumping against the cold floor and Hajime rushing towards him, and for a moment nothing else existed in the throne room. He feels the power flowing in his blood, swallowing him whole as if he was being eaten from the inside. His throat is closing up, his hands move on their own, shaking but confident in what they're doing. He's losing his grip on reality.  
  
The door flings open.  
  
Tobio smiles. He hears the shout of his name, tries to remember if it was ever said in another manner than pointless yelling, and when he finds one occurrence, two, three, and then a plethora, he knows that this is it.  
  
The end.  
  
“You dumbass, why didn't you tell anyone?!” Shouyou is screaming, his voice cracking on each word he's saying.  
  
Tobio turns, and doesn't miss the way Shouyou's eyes widen in shock at what he sees. If he looks anything like how Tooru looked, then his eyes are red and the curl of his lips is a constant smirk. Nothing at all like how he normally is.  
  
“Because you wouldn't understand, dumbass,” he replies easily. (Is it him or the demon?)  
  
“I wouldn't understand? Are you kidding me?” Shouyou hisses angrily. Anger is something Tobio can handle. “Why did you do this?”  
  
“It was the only way.”  
  
Tobio lifts a hand in the air, and his energy shapes an arrow. Shouyou barely dodges it, his instincts probably kicking in only because their training sessions weren't lacking. His will to fight isn't here; he's looking at Tobio like a wounded animal, pleading and trying to understand how it came to this, but Tobio isn't sending any kind of answers.  
  
The dark blood is thickening and the curse is becoming overwhelming—he has to finish this before it's too late. So he fires arrow after arrow, forcing Shouyou on his feet and silently asking him to fight.  
  
Maybe the message gets across, because Shouyou is unsheathing his sword, even though his whole figure is trembling, but his eyes are fierce.  
  
(Tobio ignores the pain in them.)  
  
 _Come_ , he thinks, and Shouyou is charging at him, a scream piercing him.  
  
Shouyou has been his friend, his partner, his everything, and going like this isn't that bad.  
  
The sword runs through him, and he smiles, wrapping his arms around Shouyou. Shouyou is crying.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
He closes his eyes. The sun is bright.


	13. oikage - Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When you pick up a gun, you shoot to kill. Or you don't pick up a gun at all."  
> — The Good Wife

Oikawa's hands are paradoxically smooth and deadly. Kageyama is always looking at them, whenever they're side by side and close enough for him to take them into his own calloused hands. He can't look at anything else. Oikawa is often teasing him because of that, but he indulges him and shows him 'how pretty and deceiving they are'. Kageyama can't deny it; a single movement from Oikawa, and their opponent drops on the ground like a puppet.  
  
“You see, my hands look beautiful but they're not as clean as you think they are,” Oikawa casually says one day, while they're eating lunch.  
  
“I know,” Kageyama replies, because it's true. He has never thought they were anything but tainted. Tainted, in an amazing way.  
  
“Iwa-chan is wielding a knife like an expert, but he can also use a gun of course. I prefer the gun, it's cleaner and quicker. Less trouble when you kill.”  
  
Putting a bullet through someone's skull, or someone's heart, is easy. Kageyama's sharp eyes have never failed him, and thus far he has never missed a shot. Granted, he hasn't been sent on any major operations yet, but he knows he won't miss either. And Oikawa has his back, so everything is fine.  
  
“Many people kill to survive, and it's not wrong,” Oikawa goes on, smiling at Kageyama. “Others protect. But to my mind, when you pick a gun, your goal is to kill. You don't pick a gun otherwise.”  
  
Kageyama stares, suddenly feeling a chill run through his spine, and he swallows. Oikawa's gaze is intense, confident and as acute as an eagle's. He can paralyze people with his eyes alone. Kageyama has fallen under its spell a long time ago, when he was still an impressionable kid who was just searching for someone to look up to.  
  
It was three years ago. How time flies.  
  
“Even if I kill our target to protect you?” Kageyama asks quietly. “If the target is aiming at you and I kill it—”  
  
“No, this is still killing,” Oikawa interrupts. “You take someone's life at the expense of someone else's. Never forget that, Tobio-chan.”  
  
Kageyama nods, but his mind drifts somewhere else. A place where he raises his gun to shoot because he wants to, and knows it is a choice, not because he has no other way to survive. To kill or to be killed; many of them have that mentality and he can't say he disagrees.  
  
He can't help thinking about a universe in which Oikawa relies on him, just as  _he_  relies on him, and they take on the world together, not to kill out of necessity but to safeguard their tranquility.


	14. miya twins - Finger tape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Osamu in the club room with the finger tape.

Osamu isn’t hiding, really. He just doesn’t like the attention and would like to do his business alone, in peace, without annoying inquiries chipping his social tolerance away. He especially wants to avoid Kita’s  _‘I told you so’_  look, because even though he’s his senpai, Osamu is kind of irritated he can't read him well. The fact he’s the next captain doesn’t help either.  
  
While everyone is doing spiking drills, Osamu is in the club-room trying to wrap tape around his fingers, which proves to be harder than he thought it would be. He has seen a few teammates and the nurse do it, but he never had to do it himself; he’s always been careful while practicing. High school is on a whole another level than middle school and the rougher hours of spiking, diving, running, crouching have taken a toll on his body—he can’t remember when is the last time he felt that exhausted in middle school.  
  
His right hand is constantly pulsing with ache, and he figured he should take better care of it before he breaks a few fingers. The coach says he has the spiking strength of a bull ready to headbutt animals and trees alike to make its way through, which is a valuable asset for later games and for his own panel of skills. His fellow first years think he’s going to be the next ace, especially if Atsumu manages to get the regular setter position. Can’t have one twin without the other, right? Osamu begs to differ.  
  
He’s fighting with the tape when someone pushes the door open. He looks up and finds Atsumu’s amused gaze, thoroughly enjoying the despair that Osamu is probably unconsciously showing.  
  
“Having a bit of trouble, little bro?” he chuckles.  
  
Osamu rolls his eyes and goes back to loosely wrapping his middle finger.  
  
“I’m almost done,” he tells Atsumu.  
  
“That doesn’t look done,” Atsumu disagrees. “I can do it for you.”  
  
“It’s not going to look better.”  
  
“It is!”  
  
“Except for setting your fingers are useless.”  
  
“Well your fingers are as useless as mine right now!”  
  
Osamu gives him a flat look, to which Atsumu responds with a pout. The sulking doesn’t last though as Atsumu snatches the tape from Osamu’s hands and hoots in victory, ignoring his brother’s indignation. He unfolds it and approaches Osamu, but the latter keeps his hands close to his chest, an exasperated look on his face.  
  
“I just said I don’t want your useless fingers near me.” He deadpans.  
  
“Come on ‘Samu, I’m more experienced than you in applying tape! I’m a setter, I can’t not have complete flexibility, right?”  
  
“I don’t remember seeing you with bandaged fingers.”  
  
“That’s because you’re blind.”  
  
Osamu stretches out an arm and smacks Atsumu on the head, which elicits a yelp that sounds like music to his ears.   
  
“Stop hitting me at every chance you get!”  
  
“If your face wasn’t so hittable, I’d stop.”  
  
“Jerk!”  
  
“Stupid.”  
  
“Are you guys ever going to leave the club-room?”  
  
Suna’s calm voice at the door puts a halt to their bickering. Osamu sighs and sticks out his right hand.  
  
“Do it, but do it well.”  
  
“Like I need you to tell me that.”  
  
Then Atsumu carefully wraps the tape around Osamu’s fingers, and even if the job isn’t perfect, it does the trick and Osamu is glad that his brother has such deft hands.


	15. oikage - Last arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa in the forest clearing with kageyama's last arrow.  
> (FHQ)

Oikawa doesn't feel this is the beginning of anything; it is simply the mere continuation of what has been transpiring for the past years, the past decade. He doesn't feel any different, either--people who think that a victory changes a man's life probably didn't earn their victory at all.   
  
He's looking at Kageyama on the ground, struggling under the choking roots like a lamb learning how to walk. This isn't amusing. Oikawa just watches, unimpressed and maybe a bit disappointed, while Kageyama tries to throw him his mightiest glare. Pain mixed with a raw will to survive can't produce any positive outcome.   
  
Oikawa sighs, rubbing his injured cheek and prodding at his damaged horns. Usually by now he would have cast a healing spell on himself, but Tobio-chan is no longer a threat.   
  
"What did you think you'd accomplish by coming alone?" he asks, tone devoid of emotion. "Kill me? Restore the world's balance? You're not a hero, Tobio. You never were."   
  
He ignores the gurgling noises coming from Kageyama's throat. The hissing in his head is louder than ever but Oikawa feels calm. He walks around, examining every patch of grass as if something is going to spring from it (it could have, if any mages of Tobio's ragtag group were here), and when his eyes land on the perfectly crafted bow with its quivers, he smiles.   
  
What a way to go.   
  
"That bow was my last gift to you, before you left. That was really ungrateful of you. It's a nice bow, hand made and ordered specially for you, you know? I spent months observing your skills and pestering Iwa-chan to give me more information about your tastes in bows."  
  
Days of clear skies and laughter in a court full of people as alive as they are dead now, Oikawa remembers them brightly. He can't go back in time, but if he could...   
  
He wouldn't.   
  
"I always knew you'd betray me. Maybe because I have godly powers and I sensed it, or because you're a brat and that was to be expected. Either way, I'm not surprised at what it's come to."  
  
He picks up the last arrow from the quiver. He recognizes the polished wood and the carefully welded metal head--at least Kageyama didn't lose his touch while he was away. He chuckles to himself, imagining the brat losing his patience at the shrimp's incessant inquiries about archery (he just gives that vibe). Such a pretty picture of two friends, as warped as Kageyama's notion of a friend is.  
  
He loosens the roots around Kageyama's body. The boy takes a sharp intake of breath and his hand shoots up to grasp for something, a root or his bow or just air, but it's useless. Oikawa crouches next to him, and stabs his hand with the arrow.  
  
A boy as proud as Tobio-chan would have bitten his tongue to stay silent, but this Tobio-chan is at the end of the road and he lets out a scream so deafening Oikawa thinks it's the loudest he's ever heard from him. The thought amuses him.  
  
"At death's gates you look more alive than you ever have been, Tobio," he whispers, leaning in.   
  
"Shut the fuck up," the words come out gritted and painful, but it feels like the biggest victory for him.   
  
Oikawa grins.   
  
"Sleep well."  
  
His fingers glow all around the arrow, and he fires.


	16. miya twins - The laws of this land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you."

In all honesty and fairness, it's Osamu's own damn fault if he knocked over his mug of tea and drowned his muffin in the process. Atsumu warned him, he did, to not try juggling with the tennis balls in the bedroom, but of course Osamu said,  _“I'm not a clumsy wreck like you”_ , which probably triggered the curse and made him drop a ball right away. The biggest difference between a volleyball and a tennis ball, besides the size, is the fact that tennis balls  _bounce_. It hits the corner of the chair, lands on the table then jumps next to the mug of tea, collides with it and pours all of its content over the muffin.  
  
The muffin Atsumu needed to survive the Japanese literature paper.  
  
No apologies could ever repay the damage done.  
  
Atsumu knows it's cheap. He doesn't need to be told twice to prank his brother and to bask in his silent fury. People think Osamu is calm and not fazed by anything, but they're wrong; Osamu is probably the most expressive person of the two. Granted, they'd have to learn about their quirks and the way their eyes glint or squint or widen depending on what is happening, but Atsumu won't deny that his brother wears the more genuine feelings like a perfect mask.  
  
Therefore, in the morning, when Osamu pushes the door open and comes face to face with not one pudding but the whole batch they bought last week, sitting in the middle of the dinner table, he stops. He just stops—Atsumu actually sees the realization hitting him square in the nose and his brain freeze as a result.  
  
“'Tsumu.”  
  
“Yeah?” Sweet, honey voice accompanying a shit-eating grin.  
  
“You do know we're living under the same roof.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“I know where you sleep.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.”  
  
“That's harsh, 'Samu.”  
  
Osamu strides towards the dinner table and picks up one of the puddings, clutching it harder than he should if he doesn't want to spill pudding everywhere, but at this point he doesn't really care anymore.  
  
“Did you seriously get up in the middle of the night to take the puddings out of the fridge and put them on the table?!” he hisses, glaring at his brother.  
  
“Hey, at least you can still eat them! Yesterday my chocolate muffin was covered in  _green tea_ , that was disgusting!”  
  
“You know I hate lukewarm puddings!”  
  
“Cry me a river, your puddings are not perfectly to your tastes.”  
  
Osamu lets out a frustrated noise and lunges at Atsumu, keeping him in a headlock, with one leg in front of Atsumu's knees and the other behind. Atsumu is swatting at Osamu's arm but he can't help laughing at this display of violence, which makes Osamu bend backwards and Atsumu has to follow.  
  
“My back! My back!” Atsumu complains.  
  
“You deserve it!”  
  
“Boys, you're going to be late. Osamu, let your brother go.”  
  
Osamu grumbles but does as he's told, and Atsumu collapses on the floor, snickering.  
  
“You're the worst,” Osamu mutters.  
  
“I'm the best brother,” Atsumu replies, flashing him a peace sign.


	17. tsukikage - No holding back

In the three years Tsukishima has known Kageyama, he's never done anything half-assed. That man always gives his all, reaches for 100% even though it won't necessarily bring him anything useful or worthy except for personal achievement and pride. Spiking ball after ball until he can't lift his arm anymore, running until his legs burn, taking the time to analyze everything on the court for the upcoming match. He has rarely overexerted himself, because he knows how important rest is (he learned how important it is), and he doesn't want to burden the team with an injury he could have avoided.  
  
Tsukishima has never reached that level of dedication, and it used to piss him off to see people so passionate about something that could disappear overnight. He thinks less and less about what happened to his brother in high school but the aftermath still lingers on his mind, even when he's appointed vice-captain and has to make more efforts to keep the team together. He leaves the talking to the first and second years to Kageyama, though, because a good captain needs to be able to communicate with his teammates—and he must admit that watching the stuttering and stiff shoulders turning into confident and relaxed words of reassurance is beautiful. Yamaguchi says that Tsukishima managed to tone down the sarcastic and sharp remarks, but it's always a delight to rile people up.  
  
Kageyama doesn't react that much nowadays, because he knows that almost all of them isn't meant to be taken to heart; he just narrows his eyes, shrugs and goes back to whatever he was doing, throwing a comeback once in a while.  
  
Three years can truly change a person, and Tsukishima is almost scared of what he has gone through himself. He has always taken for granted that Hinata would become the ace and the star shining on the court—who could take their eyes off that tiny idiot springing from the ground to touch the sky? But then again nobody would have thought he'd become vice captain. And he's the first one to be surprised at Kageyama's intense gaze telling him how much he trusted him and how much he'd be relying on him.  
  
“You're the best spiker after Hinata.”  
  
“Good to know I'm still number two.”  
  
“I'm serious, Tsukishima. I'm going to toss to you to score guaranteed points.”  
  
There is a second-year who wants to become the next ace; a first-year is holding up very well and might follow his senpai's path; but Kageyama decided to entrust the final points to Tsukishima, when they're in a pinch. It's the same look he's given him when he knew that his high toss would yield in a successful spike.  
  
Tsukishima snorts, but he gives the faintest of smirks.  
  
“Alright, King, if that's what you wish.”  
  
And Kageyama mirrors his expression.

 


End file.
